


XXXXS

by Senalia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, SuperTiny!Draco, adorable!draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:45:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14055252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senalia/pseuds/Senalia
Summary: Malfoy isn't a waste of space anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I write this instead of writing an essay about Beowulf. I don't really know how this random plot bunny hops in the middle of it and I don't know why I can write a thousand words about Drarry, but can't put two words together for the essay *rant*.

Some things were just always universally acknowledged by many: London was gloomy, Dementors were creepy, and Draco Malfoy was icy.

Those who had had the luck to work with Draco over the years would praise his talent in potions and creditably sharp mind; then they would turn around to whisper very subtly amongst themselves about his peculiar personality. “Isn’t much an approachable bloke” they would say, and they would try to hide the comforting sigh of glee that the days working with him were over, even though the person standing next to them was thinking the same. On the member evaluation sheet of The Potion Association, one would find multiple mentions of the unbearable amount of workload under the projects of which Draco was the leader. Pephie, who had been the ingredient assessor, wrote with fervent regret that her Muggle boyfriend had left her because she had made the mistake of calling out one of the ingredients’ name (Betony!) during their intercourse.

Others who knew Draco as a colleague and who had at least once drunkenly sworn his name at a bar pitched in and sent her a box of chocolate on Valentine as condolences.

They rejoiced when Draco was sent to serve the DMLE for five months.

And now, Auror Harry Potter, the blond’s currently favourite victim, proudly wore the purple pools underneath his red-rimmed eyes as he stridden through the hallway filled with whispering Aurors, brushing the enthusiastic trainees aside when they approached him like ants to sugar quills to ask for a quick cup of coffee.

It was, in fact, the standard time for a man to possess a fresh beverage and a warm croissant in his hands. But when his (temporary) boss was the very bane of his existence since childhood, Harry had instead a thirty-three and a half inch parchment, written on which were sixteen paragraphs and each was a wall of texts itself, listing on and on about the potential ingredients for the potent poisons that the researchers predicted. Had the parchment not consisted of the most essential and vital information for his case, Harry would've chewed it for breakfast in front of Malfoy.

The Potion Association had been priding themselves on their dutiful service to the Ministry of Magic since its establishment. It was no surprise that they had sent Draco Malfoy - the sole pupil to whom Snape had given his blessing on the potions field - as their representative when the DMLE requested a potion analyst. Naturally, at the age of twenty-eighth and the leading positions of their careers, Harry and Draco were expected to be professional and put behind them the petty habits and childish behaviours that they used to greet each other in school. So Harry wholeheartedly believed that Malfoy was very eager to devote him the most detailed data possible. Indeed.

On the first day of work, Draco immediately decided that Harry wasn't worthy of his time at the very sight of the Auror on his office’s doorstep. Setting a parchment into Harry’s offered hand, he spoke with less emotion than a bored teenager:

“Ah yes, Auror Potter. The Headquarter did forget to mention your name in my job description before assigning me to this post. Here, let us waste no more time with nostalgic sentiments. This is a list of the potions that I have organized ahead of time with the data that your department had kindly Owled to me. Please read this bit carefully; it may match with the evidence that you have collected from the crime scene. If there is a good match, trace it with the corresponding numbers and letters for further investigation. After confirming the symptoms, send the sample code and the brief description to the Research Department. That is all. You can see yourself to the door, I hope. Good day, Auror Potter.”

Harry was quite shocked when Draco presented his bum and slammed the door into his face.

They proceeded like so for the last two months, but with Draco minimizing his speech to just: “Good day, Potter.”

But “good days” were dead to Harry when he was surviving on the average of three hours of sleep per day.

Harry continued to feel uncomfortably unsatisfied with the brevity of their daily interaction but was very glad as well when he didn't have to look at the infuriating blond for too long. He would've to smack Draco with the parchment if they stood there on the doorstep for a little longer.

  
As days went by and the case went on, the denser the report paragraphs became. Excess details became necessary. Jargons of strange ingredients and reactions began to appear in Draco’s report, ones that only experts in Potion would understand. Harry had exhausted all of his resources - mainly Hermione - trying to comprehend them, so with no other choice, he had been paying an early visit to Draco every morning, ignoring the prat’s soft grunt of indignation every time he shows up.

Upon his arrival today, however, Draco didn’t answer like usual when Harry rapted on his door. He granted himself the liberty and enter Draco's office after the fifth time he had called for the blond.

The small office was eerily quiet, saved for the clicking sounds of the Auror’s dragonhide boots. On Draco's desk sat stacks of thick books, long scrolls, and multiple ink pots and quills. The walls were grey and empty, and everything seemed impersonal and dark, except for a little cactus sporting mini, bright red flowers in its yellow pot. It looked very out of place in the grey gloom of the room. There was a coat and a cobalt blue scarf hung on a wooden rack - Draco was at work.

After examining the cactus, which bounced its flowers a little when Harry picked it up, he was planning to leave before noticing an ajar door behind the curtains in the furthest corner of the room. Privacy was something Harry appreciated, but when something mysterious involved Draco Malfoy, curiosity did win the tug-o-war of morale. He walked as softly as he could into the hidden room.

It was not surprising when the room turned out to be a small potion laboratory. Unlike the cluttered state of his office, Draco kept his lab spacious and neat, with equipment aligned the wall by sizes and usage, and bottles and jars of strange ingredients arranged in alphabetical order on the racks. There on the bench was a glass rod resting on a petri dish with a little crystallization at one end and a sizzling small cauldron on the flame. Harry could remember that Snape had taken 30 points from Gryffindor when Ron had left his cauldron unattended without a Stasis charm, so he expected a hasty blond to stride in and caught him red-handed at snooping about his business, but he never came.

The only thing that startled Harry was a faint groan from out of nowhere.

Harry looked around, but everything was in order. He checked the floor and found no rotting corpses there. Still, the soft groan continued, though no sign of anyone was in the room but Harry.

“Malfoy?” He called.

The bubbles in the simmering cauldron were too distracting, so Harry spelled the fire off and put on it a Stasis charm, just in case. He called Draco again.

Then he heard it. His name. Came from the opposite bench.

Harry whirled back and there he saw an upside-down crucible moving slowly on its own like a small turtle. He watched it move for a moment, doubting whether it was charmed to move like so, before realizing that it was where the voice came from. He lifted the ceramic bowl and found a blond little creature under it.

Well, the blond creature was no other but Draco Malfoy. But he was _small_. Very, very _small_. _Tiny_ , in fact. He was on all four and heaving after he had put all of his strength into pushing about the bloody crucible, which object he would just lift with ease if he were to be in his usual size.

Harry remained very still, beaten into a stupor by the sight of his (temporary) boss and childhood nemesis sporting a height as tall as Harry’s little finger.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heehee, Draco is so cute I can't stop cooing at him while writing this. I promise domestic fluff so it'll be in the next chapter! I can't wait to write it lol.

While Harry stood motionless with his mouth gaped open like a croaking frog, Draco daintily stood up and dusted his robes, pretending like nothing in the world was wrong. In honesty, he was still quite winded by the rapid change of his body, but he was nonetheless very grateful for his luck to not end up on the ground. He would've been crushed like a cockroach under the intrusive, speccy git’s boot.

Turning to Harry, Draco had to let out a long, suffering sigh at the giant daft oaf in front of him. Size be damned, he could not panic right now. That potion sample needed to be store immediately, lest the hygroscopic ingredients in there would evaporate and all his sacrifices would be for nothing. Frowning at his feet, which were now relatively the size of pumpkin seeds, Draco thought he might need to allow some assistance, after all. Only some, though.

Draco snapped his fingers to get Harry’s attention.

“Auror Potter! I need you to go fetch three small vials - the ones with conical shape - over there in that drawers, along with the sticky labels, now!”

Woke out from his astonishment, Harry only said what made sense to him at that moment: “Malfoy! You're tiny!”

“Not important. That potion needs to be in closed containers.”

“But you're tiny, Malfoy!” Harry cried.

“I have indispensable ingredients in that cauldron, Potter, if it isn't to be seal-”

“ _You're tiny!_ ” Harry exclaimed loudly, making Draco winced at his booming voice.

“Don't _I_ know it!” Draco snapped, his voice as cold as windchill. “Either move or I will be tempted to report your uncooperative arse to Robards, Potter.” Strange enough that in this size of a baby carrot, Draco could still maintain the bossy persona.

With the height advantage, Harry was blessed with the full view of Draco Malfoy. The blond was impatiently tapping one of his little feet and crossing his arms over his chest, between his brows was an unhappy little frown. How could such a tiny thing be so annoying, Harry thought, after quickly busting himself that an angry Malfoy - he dare thought - was quite cute. However, a tiny Malfoy was still a Malfoy, Harry reminded himself, and a Malfoy was still a right git.

Feeling vindictive, Harry pushed Draco to fall with his index finger, then ignore the blond’s cries to go and gather the requested items.

When Harry came back with the poncy glasswares, which seemed delicate enough to shatter in his hands, Draco was struggling to lift a quill out of an inkpot. The height of the pot, unfortunately for the tiny blond, reached up to his neck. That meant Draco must lift the quill with a regal feather of a Griffin and heavy gold gilded nib over his head with his skinny little arms.

Intrigued, Harry watched the blond standing on his tiptoes and using all of his strength and effort to lift the quill. Draco’s eyes were clenching shut, and he was grunting softly. Harry silently cheered for him, because how could anyone observe the sight and wish ill on such a determined thing?

By now, Draco was close to success. He got the quill out of the inkpot by pulling on the feather and dragging it away from the pot’s neck. His face was a little pink and sweaty due to the exertion, but very hopeful, nevertheless.

Then the quill fell from the pot and landed on Draco.

And his clothes, hair, and face were immediately covered in black ink.

Harry had to bite back a cooing sound ( _awww!_ ) threatening to leave his throat when Draco gave a frustrated growl and pushed the quill off his person. Apparently, it only took him a tiny body and stained clothes for his veneer of composure to finally crack. Feeling great pity for poor git, Harry decided to step in.

“Do you want some help, Malfoy?” Asked Harry.

“ _No!_ ” Draco snarled. He was even cuter when he was angry, like a cranky chick.

Harry shook his head and, without a word, dropped his handkerchief onto Draco. The blond cursed when the piece of fabric suddenly covered him. He took a while to swim through the all the fabric.

The Auror could not refrain his smile when Draco emerged under the handkerchief with a messy blond head and a scowl. Before Draco could even begin his tirade, Harry picked him up along with the handkerchief and deposited him onto his palm, then started to carefully rub away the spots of ink splattered all over the blond.

“Ah, stop! Potter, stop your assault right now! Ow, that was my ribs! You're hurting me!”

As if to add to Draco’s predicament, Harry didn't even take any of his words to heart. The brute merely smiled indulgently at Draco and kept on rubbing Draco.

Harry kept on cleaning Draco for a bit longer. He quite enjoyed the way Draco made a face when his soft cheeks were squished between Harry’s fingers and the way the little wizard shivered when Harry’s thumb brushed over his stomach. It was overall delightful to watch his high and mighty (temporary) boss squirmed in the palm of his hand. It paid back for the hundred inches of parchment that Draco have been shoving down his throat.

Draco’s petulant face with an ink-smeared cheek was priceless. But the manly Auror in Harry forbid him to coo again, even internally.

“Um, so I can help you get to St. Mungo?” Asked Harry.

Draco immediately looked at Harry in horror. “ _No!_ ” He squeaked.

“Why not?” Harry frowned. Can Malfoy say anything else besides "No!" he thought.

“My reputation, Potter!”

“You serious?” Harry exclaimed. “Your body is entirely deformed, and you care about reputation?”

Draco waved his hands impatiently. “I know what causes this, and it’s not toxic. Only excess rat spleen can turn the Shrinking potion poisonous. There's no need for St. Mungo. The antidote is quite manageable; I can fix this myself.”

Harry looked Draco up and down and raised an eyebrow, making the blond scowled.

“What? I’m small, not a cripple.”

Harry shook his head. “Because you are _small_ , Malfoy, that makes things harder for you. How can you brew the antidote when you can't even reach the opposite bench?”

That remark caused Draco’s face to dim a little; then he just looked outright dejected after casting a hesitant glance at the cauldron on the opposite bench.

Now, what kind of monster would Harry be if he’d abandon a sad, tiny creature to its own conduct?

“You know what? Let’s get you out of here first,” Harry sighed.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update :'( Finals season choked me with stress and sleepless nights, but finally, I can write to relax my soul!

With his head held high and his eyes fixed straight ahead, Auror Potter walked with as much dignity as he could manage through the whispering crowd. He pointedly ignored his colleagues’ curiosities of why he was holding a small cactus with flowers in his palm, and why there was a mini blond thing peeking out of his breast pocket.

“Malfoy, can you not?” Hissed Harry as he pushed Draco’s head down with a finger. “People are talking.”

Draco sneered. “As if they haven't already heard Mellie,” he said, but he gave an exaggerated huff and sat back down in the pocket anyway.

Mellie Ninny was Robards’ secretary. She was a rather grumpy witch, and she had the loudest voice. Mellie usually brooded at her cramped little desk in front of Robards’ office. But today, much to everyone's surprise, she has squealed with all of her heart when she saw mini Draco. She even squeezed the poor blond into her bosom for an unexpected hug.

That was the main reason why Draco was now hiding in Harry’s pocket, lest they would encounter another closeted small-things enthusiast.

Looking down at Draco, who was squirming to fold his knees to his chest, Harry could only sympathize. “Yeah, she can really resonate.” Mellie had once given Harry some advice, rather loudly, that the confidential files he was holding must be delivered more discreetly, in the middle of the crowded Ministry’s lift.

The day hasn't been going well for Draco. After being traumatized by Mellie, he was almost sacked by Robards. He barely saved his job before resolving to beg. He knew that he would get into trouble with the Potion Association if Robards were to send them a strongly worded note about him.

The tiny blond was startled out of his brooding at Harry’s annoyed protest of “ _Hey!_ ” and, before he could've done anything, he was rudely nicked out of Harry’s pocket and deposited face down on a greasy palm. Draco grimaced at the slippery feel and the floral, cucumber smell of excessive moisturizer on the hand and sat up on his knees.

Leslie Nosie loomed above him. The man had an expression of less concern and more glee as he stared down his nose at Draco. He was the DMLE’s esteemed potions analyst before Draco was nominated for the position.

Senior Nosie was not trying hard to be subtle with his competitor. He outright harassed Draco once, when they were assigned to work alone in the lab: calling him petty names, and even had the bollocks to shamelessly grope Draco. Nosie was determined to scare the young blond running back to his old job at Potion Associations.

But no matter how hard Leslie tried, he had never been able to ruffle Draco. Draco only needed to give him a cold stare (and a couple of mean stinging hexes) and Leslie immediately retracted his wandering hand. The bloke was just another beetle eye in the pot, entirely expendable and unworthy of Draco’s attention. He was only pre-occupied with potion-making and Potter-tormenting these days.

“Malfoy! What on Earth happened to you?” Exclaimed Leslie with faux concern, attempting to prod Draco on the cheek.

Draco slapped his index finger away. “Shrinking Solution mishap. Apparently, the recrystallized sample’s waste solution still contains some residue of size shrinking properties. I should’ve known before casting a bloody Tergeo on it; the gas emission was unexpected. However, I got all the de-age properties to crystallized. The test was quite successful, fortunately. The crystals were soluble in water and still kept their properties, albeit a bit diluted.” Draco reported cooly and pointed to his baby cactus sitting in the yellow pot that Harry held.

“Fortunately, indeed.” Leslie sounded slightly disappointed when Draco decided to pay more attention to his baby cactus in Harry’s hand. The envious man almost sneered at Draco’s proud gaze. "Quite lucky for an inexperience assumption, indeed."

"Indeed" Draco flippantly replied, not paying much attention. Harry shot Leslie a glare, however.

“How are you going to continue?” Leslie asked Draco, ignoring Harry. “Surely you must need some assistance by tomorrow since the report deadline for the Auror is just days away, and at your current state-”

“I don't need assistance,” Draco said. “DMLE’s lab technicians are the worst bunch I have ever seen.”

All of the DMLE's lab technicians were trained by no other but Leslie Nosie.

Refrained from another sneering reflex, Leslie insisted: “Well, I could offer you some help. You might need some help when the extraction process-”

“Malfoy, we should go.” Said Harry abruptly, deliberately cut Leslie off. “I haven't all day to listen to you boffins’ ramblings about potions.” He then plucked Draco by the collar from Leslie’s hand and dropped him unceremoniously into the breast pocket, despite the tiny blond’s cries and Leslie’s scowl. “Good day, Nosie.” He bid, then went straight to the Floo in his office.

( ˘ ³˘)♥

It couldn't be helped when Harry brought Draco to his home without asking whether Draco preferred to go back to his own place or not. Apparently, to Harry, a tiny person didn't have as many choices as an average person did; especially if he was Draco Malfoy.

So Draco could only disdainfully sighed after observing about Grimmauld Place. He thought Harry couldn't hear his soft grumble of “disastrous.” But Harry wasn't deaf.

He tossed Draco out of his pocket and onto a crimson cushion. He was quite satisfied to hear Draco’s yelp.

Grimmauld Place wasn't actually “disastrous” like Draco said. It was now bright and cozy, a considerable difference from its old-time of hosting the Order’s meeting. Harry had opened all the curtains for the feeble winter sunlight to shine through, warming up the newly painted white walls and the black and white checkered tiles that replaced the greasy, mouldy wood floor. It was spacious after Harry had decluttered the ancient furniture and the dead house-elf heads. Now, it only had a few Muggle things scattered about in each room. Since the walls were now white, Harry has made the simple decision to have his drawers, bookshelves, long sofas and squashy armchairs in multiple colours to add life, instead of buying more decorations. He liked to think that it worked out. Minimalistic but not boring.

Apparently, Draco did not agree with Harry’s spontaneous colour scheme. He shuddered when he saw the muted fuchsia drawers standing beside a boxy, mustard-coloured television. Draco had seen the Muggle’s image-showing-device before, just not in such an abhorrent colour. He wondered if Harry was colourblind, or just wanting Walburga Black to never again appear in her portrait because she was too ashamed of the current house of Black to show her face.

The worst thing about Harry's home, to Draco, was the _thing_.

It looked like a fat black-burnt sausage, and it was barking and panting and circling between its owner’s feet. When it jumped up, its claws scratched Harry’s uniform trousers and left damaged white streaks that almost made Draco mourn for the fabric. It was drooling unintelligently, and it smelled like mud.

“Chip! Down, boy!” Told Harry when the Dachshund jumped up to the sofa to sniff at Draco, forcing the tiny blond to scoot away as far as possible from the black wet nose.

“Get this animal away from me, Potter! Ah!” Draco nearly shrieked as he dodged the dog’s tongue. The dog barked at him when he batted at its curious muzzle. It licked the blond from toes to head, then, before Harry could chase the dog away, it took Draco by his foot and ran off.

Harry immediately stumbled after the daring dog that has Draco Malfoy dangled from its mouth. He hoped that the blond has not yet hex the tail off his dog.

“Chip! Chip! Give me Malfoy back!” He yelled as Chip slipped through the dog flap. Harry was horrified to think what the dog could do to Draco in the garden.

He managed to pry Draco from Chip’s mouth, just before the stupid dog buried the blond along with its bones and toys collection. Harry told Chip that it would have to endure pellet food for a week and a half for such bad behaviour. Draco, although a bit shaky from the event, could still huff indignantly in disagreement with Harry. Chip’s punishment was too lenient compared to his absolutely horrid experience.

The mischievous dog did have very expressive puppy eyes, however, and Draco hated it even more.

Harry felt sorry for the blond when he examined Draco’s poor appearance. He had ripped Draco’s robes in half during the tug-o-war with his dog, and now Draco was struggling to keep them on him.

“Stupid sausage beast” Draco grumbled and glared down at Chip as he bunched up the robes at his side, though he immediately hid behind Harry’s fingers when the dog barked at him. He decided to glare at the owner instead.

“Um… sorry about Chip. He just develops this weird habit of hiding things. He stole my CDs and my glasses very often.” Harry tried to appease and pulled Draco robes over his tiny shoulders to hide the view of lily white skin. Draco merely scowled at his help and slapped his finger away.

"Don't touch me,” Draco growled.

Harry rolled his eyes at the prissiness; he was quite offended to be treated like Leslie. “Fine. Let me find you something else to wear. Er, I’ll shrink them down to your size, of course.”

“Of course, Potter” Draco snapped, irritated with Harry’s obviousness.

Harry refrained from flicking Draco in the face and went to fetch the clothes. He picked out a bright orange Chudley Cannon jersey and ugly blue polka-dot shorts, just to spite the blond. He deliberately ignored the pants drawers. It was just...wrong to have Malfoy wearing his underclothes, and he was sure Malfoy wouldn't appreciate them anyway. He could just convince himself to stop thinking about Malfoy going commando. Easy enough, he thought.

Draco was grimacing at his sticky skin when Harry was back with the shrunken clothes. He grimaced at the clothes, too, just like Harry predicted, but he didn’t protest. He only coughed, then reluctantly asked: “Potter, would you mind if I have a quick bath? Your mutt’s mouth smelled revoltingly like two-weeks-old beefsteak.”

Harry immediately thought of a brilliant idea. “Sure, Malfoy. I’ll get you a teacup.”

“What?” Draco was confused. “I want a bath, not a cuppa.”

“Oh no, you’re going to bath in the cup!” Harry excitedly said as he retrieved a little yellow teacup that he bought for sales at Tesco. It was chipped a little on the lip, but he didn't want to throw it away.

"Are you mental?" Draco exclaimed. “I’m not a bloody doll!” He sneered, but Harry brushed him off.

“Pish posh Malfoy, it’ll be fun,” he said as he filled the cup with warm water from the tab. “I don't want to waste a whole bath full of water just for your tiny arse. This is much more environmentally friendly.”

“You could fill up your wash basin, you arse! I am not bathing in a bloody teacup.”

“Oh, come on Malfoy. Indulge me.”

Unfortunately, Harry’s puppy eyes were just as expressive as his dog. Like owner, like pet; Draco hated the both of them.

“Fine. But I want a milk bath.”

Harry frowned. “You’re such a girl!”

“I get my milk bath; you get your amusement,” Draco said. He stood his ground with his arms crossed and his chin lifted - an image of a Malfoy in a business bargain.

It always worked.

“Fine,” Harry huffed “let me get the milk. ”

He came back with warmed milk in the yellow cup only to find Chip yanking one of Draco’s sleeve, exposing half of the blond’s body. Draco was red in the face while trying to protect his modesty, desperately holding onto the tearing fabric.

“You ought to chain your walking weiner, Potter,” Draco cried after Harry rescued the poor blond from the dog. “It’s evil!"

“Chip likes you, Malfoy. He was trying to help you strip.” Harry said. He got hit in the face with a doll-sized dirty robe.

Draco was about to take off his pants before noticing that Harry was staring intently at him.

“Potter, I’m tiny, but my bits are still intact. Would you mind stop ogling me?” Draco snapped.

“I’m not ogling!" Harry denied, blushing a tad bit. "I-er...I’m only curious how much your bits have shrunk!”

“Turn. Around. _Pervert_.”

Harry petulantly obeyed.

After a while, Harry took the soft sigh as a signal and turned back. He couldn't help but choke.

Tiny Draco fitted perfectly in the little teacup. He was fully submerged in the milk, except half of his chest, white knees, and slightly pink face and shoulders. His downy blond hair complemented the colour of Harry’s chipped cup, making the whole scene strangely aesthetically pleasing.

“Okay, Malfoy. Don't take this as a compliment, but right now you look weirdly. Er...” Harry bit tongue. By God, he almost called Draco Malfoy cute. “Very unlike your usual self.” He finished lamely.

“Fuck off.”

“Um, you need shampoo and soap? I can go fetch them for you upstairs," said Harry, really wanting to escape from Draco's presence in this instance.

“You're not leaving me here with your mutt, Potter,” Draco said. And it was true that Chip was looking at Draco as if he was some milk-drenched dessert, so Harry carried the cup with Draco in it to the bathroom upstairs with him.

It wasn't like Harry purposefully spilt the milk while walking to pissed Draco off; he just really enjoyed teasing the blond. Though perhaps a little too much.

After getting yelled at for dumping an excessive amount of shampoo on Draco, Harry finally left him to his privacy and went downstairs to cook and feed Chip, so that the dog would leave his tiny guest alone.

Harry shucked his robes uniforms onto the back of a chair and unbuttoned his white shirt for easier breathing. Why bother wearing a formal white-collared shirt and dressed pants underneath the Auror robes was beyond Harry. He rolled up his sleeves to the elbow, then opened the fridge to take out some marinated chicken breasts he has defrosted this morning before going to work. He made sure to wash his hands with the lemony soap, with which he also used to wash dishes. Throwing the rice with a cup of water into a pot, Harry moved on to grill the chicken and prepared some salad. He had just enough time to check on Draco before the rice cooked.

Draco was shrugging on the offending orange jersey when Harry walked in. He immediately glared at Harry, knowing that his childhood nemesis picked this ridiculous outfit solely to humiliate him. But he was perplexed when Harry made a very strange face.

For Harry, he couldn't find a single mocking word, despite his earlier intent. His brows furrowed as he was quite disgusted with himself for finding Draco adorable in the ugliest clothes, but his mouth, however, was refraining from cooing aloud.

With crossed arms and hateful glare, Draco was clearly trying to intimidate. The bright, oversized jersey and cute polka-dot shorts undermined all of his efforts, however. Even the shrunken clothes were too baggy for Draco’s slender frame. The jersey kept falling off one of his shoulders, and it also obscured most of the shorts, showing only a little bit of the blue hems at Draco’s mid thighs.

Harry tried really hard to ignore the fact that Draco was looking quite lovely in his own clothes.

“You look brilliant, Malfoy,” Harry said, keeping his tone teasing.

“Shut up” Draco said, trying to find fault with Harry’s clothing to retaliate. But the blatant display of glowing tan skin on the Auror’s broad chest distracted him very effectively. He opted for the simple, easy insult instead: “Your hair is abysmal.”

( ˘ ³˘)♥

Dinner went quite well, in Harry's opinion. The only eventful thing was Chip's attempt to paw at Draco from the edge of the table, and Harry's wonky shrinking spell went out of Draco’s fork, which almost crushed the poor blond.

Despite Draco's constant accidents, Harry didn't mind rescuing him from the plights of his tiny wizard self. It was probably because of his Gryffindor golden heart, or because it wasn't every day that he could witness the uptight Draco Malfoy struggling to crawl out underneath a fork.

Harry had to share only five grains of rice and a corner of his chicken to Draco. He was quite pleased that the posh git decided to deem his food ‘edible.’

Draco scooted to the middle of the table, closer to his baby cactus (which waved its flowers at him) and as far as possible from Chip’s searching paws. It even ignored the scraps of food that Harry dropped on the floor; Chip was very determined to include the shiny blond thing to its collection in the dirt. Out of spite, Draco flicked the leftover rice to Chip’s face. He was happy to see the grains stuck on the dog’s ears and forehead.

When Harry was washing the dishes, Draco sprawled on a napkin beside him and watched the Auror with bored eyes.

“So, Potter,” Draco drawled “how long are you planning to shelter me? Surely you do not enjoy my presence in the privacy of your home.”

“I don't really mind. You don't waste much food or space.”

Draco glared.

“Besides, you don't have anywhere else to go, since you're fretting about the press. So why even bother asking?” Said, Harry. “Wait, are you worry about my comfort? Why, Malfoy.” Harry smiled sweetly and snorted when Draco made a disgusted face.

“Sod your comfort, Potter. I mean to leech you dry, I’m not going anywhere until I am well again” Draco said, stubborn.

Harry bit back a smile as Draco was lifting his pointy chin. Unlike the cold one he knew at work, this jaunty Malfoy he knew how to handle. He sighed with mock exasperation: “Oh, poor me.”

Draco frowned, quite confused at Harry’s insincerity.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yall, sorry for the appallingly late update, I'm very ashamed of myself *cries*.

Feeling a gentle breeze of warm air on his face, Draco woke up to find Harry Potter’s green eyes squinting at him in the soft sunlight. It was not the most unpleasant sight he had ever seen first thing in the morning, Draco admitted, but it could’ve been better if Potter would stop looking like a frowning, ugly monkey. The stale stench of morning breath mingled with the heady scent of jasmine tea, which still lingered on the container in which he had slept, made Draco wrinkled his nose. He buried his face back into the coarse wool of Harry’s old Hogwarts scarf - now served as Draco's blanket - and closed his eyes. He much preferred the nostalgic whiff of butterbeer there instead.

“Malfoy, it’s morning. Get up,” said Harry’s gruff voice, “we have work in about an hour.”

Draco sunk further into the scarf.

Receiving no response, Harry sighed as the blond continued to refuse reality. Still disoriented from his sleep, he did not know what to do with or what to say to Draco. It was quite already bizarre when he searched for his glasses on the nightstand to find a tiny Malfoy sleeping in a tea box instead. Harry sneaked a glance at blond fluff peeking out from the red and gold scarf and contemplated for a second if he could call off work today for both of them, but decided against it. No way Harry would stand socializing with a moody Malfoy at home for the whole day.

"Malfoy, if you don't get up right now, I will feed you to my dog," Harry said.

He almost smirked when Malfoy emerged from the scarf with a horrible bedhead and glared at him.

After dumping dog kibbles into Chip's bowl to lure the dog away from Draco, Harry returned to the dining table in the kitchen to find the blond curled bodily around the cap of a side-way-collapsed marmalade jar. Careful to not make any noise, he watched the blond curiously.

It seemed like Draco was attempting to twist open the cap. Curving his tiny body like a shrimp around the cap, he hugged it tightly, then did a little lean backward to twist it open.

But the whole jar rolled back, almost crushing Draco underneath had he not released himself and rolled away.

The cap was still intact.

Taking a deep breath, Draco tried to ease the urge of vehemently stamping his feet and kicking the marmalade jar off the table. He knew it was borderline barmy, but he couldn't help but gave a scathing glare to the damnable, inanimate object.

Harry snorted loudly, hopeless at refraining himself from finding tiny Draco extremely hilarious at everything he did.

"Shut up, Potter," Draco whirled around and snarled, feeling hot in the face.

"You can ask for help, Malfoy," said Harry, picking up the jar but didn't open it. He gave Draco a smirk, "nicely."

"Whatever," spat Draco, but he stopped, realizing that he was spilling emotion all over the place like his bratty, eleven-year-olds self. It must be the effects of some de-ageing residue in the Shrinking Solution, he mused. Either that or having too much interaction with Potter's existence was grating on his poor nerves. Draco suspected it was the mostly the latter.

Sighing, the tiny blond sat on his cushion (made of a lot of tissues paper) and tore a piece of toast to munch on, ignoring the dryness and plainness of the bread. He also ignored Harry, who was standing there and feeling quite put out that Draco didn't rise to his challenge.

Harry shrugged and sat down to his English fry-up. Halfway through the awkward, quiet meal, he took pity on Draco as he watched the blond sulkily chewing on an itty-bitty piece of plain toast. Harry discreetly assembled something that looked like a miniature sandwich, with properly buttered toast and stacked bacon, and nudged Draco's cheek with it without a word.

"Potter! Ugh," said Draco as he tried to push away Harry's hand, "what is this, it's so greasy!"

"Just take it, Malfoy. You ponce."

"Stop! You're smearing lard on my face!"

"Oh," said Harry "sorry, here." He took a napkin and started to clumsily and roughly wipe Draco's face. His fingernail scratched the thin skin of Draco's cheek.

" _Ow!_ " Batting Harry's hand away, Draco shouted, his body shaking with violent, sudden rage "Stop! Stop it, Potter! I can do things fine on my own!"

"Jesus, calm down," said Harry, unknowingly that he infuriated Draco even further, "I was just trying to help!"

"I don't need it."

"You looked like you do."

"Didn't ask for it, did I?" Draco said, coldly.

"Well, _fine!_ " Harry snapped, bristled at Draco's rudeness. "Get to work on your own, then." He threw the napkin on a spluttering Draco, then stood up and left.

Before the Floo's green flame swallow up Harry, he ignored Draco when he called for him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How can I not include some heated banter between our Harry and Draco, aheehee. They're the cutest when they fight, aren't they?


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